She heard a woman in the crowd exclaim, “600 pounds—and red velvet too. My absolute favorite!” as officiators struggled to pull a small saw through layers of fondant.

The roof of University Hall burned red and smoke curled around the first building on college hill. Cheers exploded as a thundering crack broke against the bricks.

After an hour and seventeen minutes of waiting, she slid a forkful of cake into her mouth. She pursed her lips, preparing for delight, but tasted only sawdust.

In the light of the fireworks, one hundred pixelated eyes blinked. She imagined the faces of two hundred and fifty years of ghosts.

Grabbing a slice of cake, their hands connected—base of the palm to finger tips—and she felt warmth extending from the young woman's skin.

Turning from the bright lights of the tent she looked at the red-with-cold faces behind her and saw the shapes of her sisters, uncles, her grandmothers and their fathers.